Suddenly he stiffened and frowned. Was he imagining things? he wondered. As the girl crossed the street to Calvin’s car, had he imagined she had lurched? He watched closely, pressing his forehead against the window pane. There… she did it again: almost as if she were drunk, Travers thought, puzzled, but the idea of Alice Craig being drunk was so ridiculous he immediately began to wonder if she were ill.
He watched her reach the car. She seemed to be having trouble opening the car door. He looked across at the bank and saw Calvin locking up.
Maybe she was ill, Travers thought and hesitated, wondering if he should go out and ask, but then remembering how hopelessly embarrassed she always became when he spoke to her, he decided to let Calvin deal with her.
Calvin crossed the road with long swift strides. He got into the car and started the engine. He was aware that Travers was at the window, watching him. His heart was thumping. This he knew was the most important part of his plan and the most dangerous. He wondered if Travers had seen Kit lurch as she had crossed the road. He himself had seen her lurch: would Travers think anything of it?
Kit sat huddled up in the corner of the car, crying softly and hysterically. Calvin could have strangled her. He had had to shake and slap her before he could force her into Alice’s hat and coat. He hadn’t thought, as he pushed her out into the dark street, that she would be able to reach the car, but he had had to take that risk.
Now as he headed back to the rooming-house, he began to relax for a moment. As he drove past the sheriff’s office, he waved towards Travers and he saw Travers wave back. Then being careful not to drive too fast, he continued up the main street.
Nothing was said until they were in sight of the rooming-house, then Calvin slowed down and pulled to the grass verge and stopped the car.
‘Listen to me,’ he snarled. ‘You’ve got to pull yourself together, you drunken bitch! Do you hear me! We’re not through yet. When we get in, go straight upstairs and stop at the top. I’ll tell you to go to bed and you’ll say just one word: ‘Yes’. If either Miss Pearson or the major is in the hall, go past them, keeping your head turned away. Understand?’
She sat there, stinking of whisky, crying helplessly, apparently not listening.
Swearing under his breath, Calvin caught hold of one of her wrists in both hands and twisted her flesh in opposite directions. The sudden agony of his grip made her cry out and brought her upright.
‘Do you hear me?’ he snarled, letting go of her wrist, his hands closing over her shoulders. He shook her. ‘Sober up! Do you understand what you’ve got to do?’
She cringed away from him.
‘Yes…’
‘All right, then do it! Make one mistake and you’ll land yourself in the gas chamber.’
He started the car engine again and drove on to the rooming-house. When they arrived, he put the car in the garage.
‘Come on… get out!’
She got out. Now she was sobering up and looking at her, Calvin was shocked at the sight of her. She looked old and ugly. Her eyes had sunk into her head. Her skin was the colour of tallow: even her lips were white.
He caught hold of her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh and hurried her up the steps and into the hall. He rushed her across the hall to the foot of the stairs and gave her a push forward, starting her up the stairs as Major Hardy appeared in the doorway of the lounge.
Calvin began taking off his coat, ignoring the major, watching Kit stumbling up the stairs. Then when she reached the head of the stairs and was out of sight, he called after her, ‘Alice I think you should go to bed. I’ll tell Kit to come up to you.’
He waited for the rehearsed ‘yes’, but it didn’t come. He listened to her stumbling up the other flight of stairs to her room.
‘Something wrong?’ the major asked.
Before turning, Calvin composed his expression The effort he had to make to appear relaxed brought sweat out on his hands.
‘She’s a bit under the weather,’ he said. ‘She has a bad headache and so on… one of these women’s things.’
The major, who was a bachelor, looked wise.
‘It happens to them all, the poor things,’ he said. ‘Best in bed.’
‘Yes.’
Calvin went up to his room. He hurriedly washed his sweating face and hands, then he went into Kit’s room.
She was lying face down on her bed, breathing heavily. He stood over her, aware that in less than half an hour she would have an important role to play and aware that at the moment she was incapable of playing it. She was still drunk. He had to get her sober. He wanted to grab her by her hair and slap her face until she sobered up, but he realised his hand would leave tell-tale marks which the old couple couldn’t fail to see.
He moved closer, then putting his hand on the back of her head, he pressed her face into the pillow. He began to spank her, viciously and violently until his hand felt burning and bruised. He muffled her screams by keeping her face forced into the pillow, and finally, after he had beaten her until his arm began to tire, he released her, dragging her over on her back and standing over her, his eyes glittering, as he stared down at her.
She lay motionless, her face contorted with pain, but her eyes clear and sober.
‘Are you all right now?’ Calvin demanded, breathing heavily. ‘Have you sobered up?’
She drew in a long shuddering breath, then she closed her eyes, nodding.
‘Okay. Now get up and put some make-up on. You look like hell. I’m going down. You know what to do and say. We’ve gone over it enough times.’ He leaned over her, his expression vicious. ‘Do you know what to do?’
Opening her eyes, she suddenly spat in his face. The hatred in her eyes startled him. His hand swung back to slap her, but he controlled himself. Instead, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and grinned at her. His grip was vicious and confident.
‘If you still have the guts to do that after that beating, you can go through with this,’ he said. ‘Three hundred thousand dollars! Remember that! Three hundred thousand dollars!’
He left her and went downstairs into the lounge.
The major was reading the newly arrived Reader’s Digest. Miss Pearson was knitting a blue and white scarf she had promised the major for his birthday. They both looked up inquiringly as Calvin came in.
‘Is Alice unwell?’ Miss Pearson asked.
‘A headache,’ Calvin said. ‘She has gone to bed. She’ll be all right tomorrow. Does anyone know what’s for dinner?’ With an effort he switched on his charm. ‘I’m hungry.’
The major smiled with the smug satisfaction of someone who has access to important inside information.
‘I asked Flo… it’s pot roast.’
While they were finishing dinner, Kit came in. Calvin looked sharply at her. Although she looked tired, there was now nothing about her appearance to attract unwanted attention. She said Alice was sleeping. She had given her a sleeping tablet. She was sure she would be all right in the morning.
Calvin broke in by saying there was a good play on television. The old couple went into the television-room. Calvin paused before he followed them.
‘I’ll be up at eleven,’ he said to Kit ‘Keep away from the bottle… hear me?’
He left her and joined the old couple in the already darkened room. His mind was busy as the play ran its course.
There’s no turning back now, he said to himself. So far it’s working out all right. The only real danger now is if someone happens to try the back door of the bank and finds it unlocked. If that happens I’m really cooked. But why should anyone try the door? The whole town knows it is never used.